Tracking Taylor all the way to the Super Bowl, Dr-assisted assassination, and Eiffel Tower bling.
Three Things from the week with a poem about not being a spiritual superhero
I’m back from the beach, and to be honest, don’t know how I feel about it. I like the pace under a palm tree with waves crashing nearby. While I unplugged from the digital world for most of the week, there were a few stories that broke through the restful quiet.
I hope you enjoy the links. And all the Super Bowl ads this weekend.
Thanks for spending some of your weekend with Things I Wrote Down.
1. Tracking Tay-Tay to the Superb Bowl
This was a fun read. I'm not a Swiftie (but I respect the brand) and I don't watch NFL football (though I like the spectacle of the Super Bowl). With that out of the way, let me say, this article about how Taylor Swift can make the game to cheer her beau in Vegas after performing in Tokyo and taking a private red eye gives a unique glimpse at the infrastructure and logistics of romance for the rich and famous.
And if you primarily tune in to the NFL on Super Bowl Sunday, the NYT's This Morning has a great breakdown of the day for you.
2. Doctor-assisted assassination.
A friend sent this link about the former prime Minister of Holland and his wife who died holding hands... after their doctor gave them both lethal injections. This wasn't on my 2024 bingo card, but it probably should have been.
Aging world leaders are getting life-ending euthanasia, and the press barely batted a lash. Don't tell Biden's friends or enemies.
This should be a thrilling if not far-fetched plot in a spy novel—doctor as assassin, world leader taken out with a quick injection—but it's not. It's the real life climax of privileged autonomy.
And it is chilling.
3. Eiffel Tower bling.
Zut alors! The French sure know how to make bling.
Olympic medalists will get to take home a piece of the Eiffel tower for their trophy case. This article outlines the unique process that made it possible.
And it’s tres cool.
Things I Wrote Down is word bling. Whether you go free or go paid, you’re a champion.
A poem about not being a spiritual superhero
Here’s a poem from deep in my personal archive. It’s part of a series of poems entitled “Superstar” meant to debunk the myth that we need or need to be spiritual superheroes. With links pointing to superstars and superhuman feats, it felt like a nice counterpoint.
IV suggestions imagine Gotham without it’s crusader Krypton has given generously what would we be (dare I even mention it) without our men and women in their colourful leotard strength revealed through spandex underwear worn on the outside flashy symbols and flowing capes sidekicks lacking some power with underemphasized getup nevertheless helpful and reliable zounds! great hero blustering blasphemy let us save humanity from such unorthodox ideas look there’s a telephone booth hold on tight--the truthmobile has been recalibrated more lightning power lock, load, say a prayer there never was provision for the spiritual celebrity- I come against thee in the name! so the definition must be removed from our vocabulary use the demonic tranquilizers! stop praying for me like that – we’re on the same side, I’m not the enemy resist! recalibrate! thermal spiritual rocket enhancers! superstar your time is over! so hang up your cape and walk with the rest of us